LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 
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Slieli'Mk^f If 



UNITED STATES OF A3IEIIICA. 



IN THE GODS SHADOW 



) 



BY 

GEORGE MACDONALD MAJOR 



NEW-YORK 

PRINTED AT THE DE VINNE PRESS 

189I 






81 



Copyright, 1891, by 
George Macdonald Major. 



"In the Gods' Shadow" and "The 
Background of Mystery " have lain in my 
desk for the past three years. Some time 
I had expected leisure and inclination to 
revise them, — but upon re-perusal lately 
they seemed lacking in unity of construc- 
tion or possibly are essentially unpoetical ; 
at least I felt that I could not work out the 
idea I had in my own mind. It is prob- 
ably folly to print what is unsatisfactory 
even to one's self, but I could not consign 
them to oblivion without some little epitaph 
to mark their grave. The text for that 
epitaph will be culled from the critics. 

Ja?tuary 25, 1891. 



3llrgunicnt 

Gallus Pollio, a Roman gentleman of eminent 
ancestry, having loved the lady JULIA, marries her 
and discards his mistress ViSTlLLlA. After three 
years the latter, discovering that Julia has become 
a convert to the religion of Christ, betrays her to 
the pagan priests upon the occasion of the annual 
sacrifice and festival given by the Pollio family. 
This she does in the hope of regaining the affec- 
tion of Gallus, but only accomplishes thereby 
his death and her own. 



^cr^on^s?* 



Chorus of Priestesses. 

Chief Priest. 

Priests. 

Gallus Pollio. 

Julia, his wife. 

Vistillia, formerly his mistress. 

Flaccus, brother to Vistillia. 

Neighbors in attendance, and Bacchantes. 



gintiocatton. 



A lady in imperiojis beauty vaiii 

Reminds me ever of the partial Muse 

Who scoffs his love who loves her most and sues 
To be the Jiumblest vassal in her train. 
She scorns sobbed prayer's and the incurable pain 

Of burning, haunting thought, that vainly ivoos 

Expression, since she does all aid refuse, 
Or fiiocks with echoes of elusive strain. 
What have I done that she should chase me thus — 

At wakening Morn, still Noon and whispering 
Eve? 

What unpurged crime, save loving her too well, 
Thus to be doomed of song the Sisyphus, 

Or Tantalus, when Hope has turned to leave ? 

O Muse, grant Just one song imperishable ! 

Januarv 22, 1888. 



IN THE GODS' SHADOW. 



A hill set apart for sacrificial pjirposes on gro7inds 
of Callus Pollio. Chorus of priestesses and priests 
in attendance, and while the neighbors, dressed in 
holiday attire, are assembling, the action begins. 
Time — Morning, 

€j)om.£f of ^ric^tc^sc!^» 



First Priestess. 
The day has arisen 
In beauty and hght; 
The sunshiny heaven, 
The dew-beaded sods, 
No shadows imprison, 
No hint of the night. 
As Nature were given 
The smiles of the gods, 

7 



8 3In tl)t ©oB^' <g)I)aaotD. 

Beseeching whose favor 
These hoUday folk, 

With worship and praises, 
With offerings and gifts 
Of incense and savor, 
A blessing invoke. 

Yet a veil o'er their faces 
My spirit uplifts, 
And low in their psalters 
I hear a refrain, 
A minor of sorrow, 
A funereal lay, 
A ghost at their altars 
That prophesies pain, 
A tragic to-morrow 
To follow to-day ! 

Second Priestess. 

Alas, alas, alas ! 
And art thou too possessed ? 

All night I saw, as in a glass, 

Foreboding specters pass, repass ; 

And when I trod this haunted grass 
A sudden terror filled my breast. 
As if some lurking god impressed 
My spirit to receive his dread behest. 
Even now the shade of some sad doom impending, 
Some dark, vague horror all-controlling, 
O'er my seized soul is rolling ; 



■3In tl)e ^oii;3' <S)J)aDotD. 9 

Visions strange my being rending, 

Fire and ashes, 

Like the flashes 
Of Jove's anger with this morning worship blending ! 

First Priestess. 
From what way comes this direly threatening fate? 
A blast of what god's hate ? 

• Second Priestess. 

Ah me, who knows ? 
The wind that blows 
Far from the wild Tyrrhenian caves swells forth. 
Rain streaming from the east, cold shivering from 

the north. 
But who can resolve me the mystical meaning of 

dreams, 
Which with thick rushing phalanx my being sur- 
rounds and o'er-teems 
Like shadows of blackness that darken the mirrors 

of sun-loving streams ? 

The mists of the day, and the clouds of the night, 

Without form, without words. 

Like a ghost making audible flight ; 

Or the whirr of a million dark wings that reveal not 

the bodies of birds. 

Yet the day is born 
Of a perfect morn, 



lo 3ln tlft <£»oiJ^' 'Sljalioto, 

And the sights of the eye and the sounds of the ear 
Full of rapture and cheer. 

/^irs/ Priestess. 
The clearest blue sky 
Has the thunderbolt nigh, 
And the calmest sea 
May the dreadest be ; 
So marvel not 

If the day most fair 
Brings the blackest lot 

And the night of care. 
For the envious gods 
Begrudge unto mortals 
Long living untroubled, 
But snare and entrap them, 
And plague them with sorrow, 
And visit the evil 
Of long generations 
On grandchildren's children ; 
Nor prayers nor oblations 
Preserve them from suffering. 
The greater the virtue, 
The grander the hero ; 
The gods give them glory, 
And pleasure, and riches, 
But still overbalance 
The scales of the blessing 
With wanderings and troubles, 



3In t})t &o'Ofi' <S)!)aDotD, 1 1 

False wives and false friendships, 
And dyings inglorious. 
The brand of a woman, 
The shaft of a coward, 
May send down to Hades 
The victor and taker 
Of many walled cities. 
This is of the gods, 

Who joy to see 
Man's race in the toils 

Of Destiny. 

Chorus of Priestesses. 
Alas, that we should know 

The coming woe ! 
We virgin priestesses, that we 
Should feel the awful pangs of prophecy! 
Alas ! they borrow 
Who would know of the things to come but pain ; 

For increased knowledge is but added sorrow 
And madness in the heart and in the brain. 

But grant, great gods, this day marred in the 

making 
May not to us bear wailing and heartbreaking. 
Forbid that we should sup 
Of this day's awful cup. 

Priest. 
Why do you roll your eyes and speak strange words ? 



12 3fn ti)t (SoUfiC <S)i)aflotti. 

C/iorus. 
The future looms before us dark and dread. 

Priest. 
Is it for us or you the sights you see ? 

C/iorus. 
The god who sits upon our Hps speaks not, 
But vaguely hints of woe and grief to come. 

Priest 
To-day, or on the far-ofif shores of Time? 

C/iorits. 
The urgent motions in us point to-day. 

Priesf. 
Look round and see — note where the clouds of fate 
Are resting o'er devoted heads foredoomed. 

C/iorus. 
Where Flaccus and Vistillia talk apart. 
And walk this way, while in us gloom strange 

scenes 
Shotted with angry lightnings of the gods. 

Priest 
Then one or both some shaft of gods will smite. 

C/ion/s. 
We cannot say. The visions veer and change; 
But let us finish now our preparation. 



3In tfft <S>on^' <S)I)atioto, 13 

Maccus. 
Sister, she is not here, as I foretold. 

Vistillia. 
You have not looked ; you have but looked amiss. 

Flaccus. 
My lids are fain to close from too much light. 
Peering in luminous eyes of white-souled women 
To catch a glimpse of her in this assemblage. 

Vis It lit a. 
As easily find some inconspicuous star 
When heaven's plains are studded with their host, 
As single her by sweeping round your eye. 

Flaccus. 
Nay, by the gods, she were the fairest here, 
Conspicuous as though she wore a crown — 
Her eyes outflashing all the women round. 

Vistillia. 
In Love's sight perhaps blind from ideal light, 
Choosing a candle to the fire-orbed sun. 

Flaccjis. 
If ever I had loved that cloudless glance. 
This were the hour of the unrisen sun. 
That time of dawn not altogether dark, 
Because the cold, faint light of morning stars 
Blanches the backward turning face of Night, 



14 3ln^t^e (Z5oD«(' <S)T)atiotp. 

Flitting to far-off shores, but yet not shining 
With the full lustre of oncoming Day, 
In that she was not foremost of them all. 

Vis tin ia. 
Grateful unto my ears must sound her praise. 

Flacats. 
I cry your pardon, yet she is most fair. 

Vis ii Ilia. 
The curse of all the gods be on her head ; 
The vengeance of the Furies blight her days ! 
Oh for the power to drive her through all climes, 
Accursed and mad with thirst and stung with pain. 
As jealous Juno drove the fair-haired lo 
From the rich plains of Argus further on 
To the white shores of the Maeotic strait ! 

Flaccits. 
You love him still, my sister, even yet ? 

Vistillia. 
Was he not mine ? Had I not prior claim ? 
Had he not certified a thousand oaths 
Swearing he loved me, and for seven years, 
That seems now seven days, in which we grew 
No older ; not a hair turned gray nor wrinkle 
Upon our foreheads seamed to mark Time's flight. 
Exceeding happiness and changeless youth — 



3In t})e ©oii5' "i)l)aflotD. 15 

For seven sweet years did he not call me wife ? 
Wife of his heart — though not by public vows 
Before a god's shrine wedded — till the day 
She came, and like some god's incarnate curse 
Turned love to hate — my day to hell-black night, 
And shame — the shame that is the shamefullest ; 
The dread of women that with groans and tears 
Causes the white-haired mother rue the hour 
Her womb brought forth alive — this foulest shame 
She brought me in her fascinating eye, 
And in th' ensnaring cunning of her limbs, 
Perfect in white proportions. 

Now the gods 
Have given her your prey, what day more ripe 
Than this to crown this pious festival 
With a sublimer spectacle than lambs 
Flower-chapleted upon their shining fleece? 
Betray her to the augurs and the priests. 

Vistillia. 
What then — what proofs sustaining such a charge "i 

Flaccus. 
She would acknowledge, yea, and not deny ; 
Even now I dare be sworn by all the gods 
She is not further from this holy hill 
Than I might cast a white stone through yon trees, 
Standing like sentinel guards around his house, 



And light upon his portico, perchance, 
Where to the symbol of her God she kneels, 
Praying against her husband's piety 
That gave to-day's oblation and the feast. 

Vistillia. 
That might await invidious reflection — 
How long since thou wert taint with this infection ? 

Flacctis. 
The folly of my youth, ah, name it not ! 
And yet, dear gods, it seemed a glorious hope 
To light the drear, dark slope of human life 
That only leads us downward to the grave. 
For what is life? — a breath, a dream, a flame ; 
Sweet odor of a flower or rank of weed ; 
A breath that perishes in its exhalation ; 
A dream of shadows, then a shadowless sleep ; 
A flame that dies even of itself consumed 
In the black void of Death — but Christ had dared 
To promise immortality and love 
From his inflowing divinity through faith. 
But this, too, ended as the lees of life — 
A breath, a dream, a flame that of itself 
Exhausted its vitality ! Ah ! list ! 
The chant begins of those who, too, have been 
Deluded, but recant their errors now. 



3In ii)t tiDoo^' 'S)l)afloto. 17 

A company who have abjured the Chris- 
tian faith advance to the altar, sitiging as 
they slowly 7narch : 

As exiles return to their own land 

From regions where men dread to be 
From wild wastes and salt seaweed-sown land, 

And sobbing winds moaning o'er sea — 
We turn to the gods that are living, 

Whose worship brings sunshiny days, 
And join at your altars in giving 

Oblations, sweet odors, and praise. 

We come as escaping from prison, 

A dungeon-cell cheerless and damp. 
To the light of the sun fully risen. 

Who 've known but a dull smoking lamp. 
From the stark, lifeless Christ on the gibbet. 

Whom vainly we deemed was divine. 
To the gods of our sires who exhibit 

A sweeter and lovelier shrine. 

From the tomb of Earth's highest ambitions, 

A charnel-house full of dead joy. 
Where they taught us Love's fondest fruitions 

Allure to delude and destroy ; 
Where we made ourselves sad as we brooded 

And gave our days up to vain prayer. 
By the word of a dead man deluded. 

For a heaven we could not tell where. 

But days lost in useless devotion, 

Oh memory bitter as gall ! 
They have fled as the waves of the ocean. 

The gods even ne'er can recall. 



1 8 3Jn ti)e <Sori5' 'i)I)aDoto, 

Our youth and the joy that youth's store is, 
Desire and the great hopes that burn — 

Love, Pleasure, and Earth's fearless glories 
To us can, ah, never return. 

For shadows will creep over heaven, 

A pall seem to darken the Earth, 
And Doubt brings Life surfeit for leaven 

And jangles the sweet bells of Mirth ; 
While the habit of Virtue — the fowler — 

Clips the wings of the fair bird Desire, 
Hard choice 'twixt the gloom of the cowl or 

The heart's smouldering, perishing fire. 

Flacciis. 
True as the sibyl's words or oracles 
On wave-worn cliffs or groves where gods are hid ! 
The world no longer seems the same to me 
As in those fearless days when Pleasure shrined 
Herself in Nature, like a palpable god, 
And bade me follow. Flaming suns and stars, 
The torches that lit paths for reveling Night, 
Can never shine for me as in those times 
Of blood unchilled and heart, that felt desire 
Seedlike to grow or budwise to unfold 
Into the flower Fruition. Ah, methinks 
This is the Galilean's triumph yet, 
Gorgon-like, turning our diviner selves 
To stone of dead desires — heart-ashes, too, 
Like dust of last year's leaves and shriveled flowers, 
Eddied by frosty winds where the old paths 



3In rijf «Soii^' <S)l)aflotr), 19 

Of Love are brier-grown. So all my youth 
Was fed on barren hopes, as some poor babe 
That suckling finds the shriveled bosom milkless — 
My heart is choked with dust. 

Vistillia. 

A homily 
Which in the places where the Christians meet, 
With little change of words, had made them hear 
Christ's spirit speaking through you. Hark! again, 
The Bacchantes come forth dancing in reply. 

Bacchantes (Dancing and singing). 
Come dance and sing, 
While Youth and Spring 
Give Hope a w^ing 

To fly with ; 
Ere Age and Care 
Steal unaware, 
And bring Despair 
To die with. 

Hence, solemn fools, 

Ascetic rules. 

And cowled schools, — 

Oh madness ! 
When Love has lips. 
And Pleasure sips. 
The crushed grape drips 

In gladness. 



20 3In (f)t *3oia^' <g)i)aDoh}, 

No gifts to man 
Are sweeter than 
The wild god Pan 

Doth measure ; 
The sparkhng grape, 
The glowing shape, 
That Love may rape 

At pleasure. 

Can calloused knees 
Of devotees 
Compare with these 

For sweetness ? 
With Sleep soft pressed 
On fondled breast 
To round Joy's best 

Completeness. 

Maca/s. 
Like nymphs they dance as if their sinuous bodies 
Were flexible and bent as reeds to winds, 
To melodies of pastoral pipes, as once 
Fauns and weird satyrs and the sylvan rout 
In merry mad abandon danced with Pan. 
But, to return : 
This may be harvest-day, if you elect. 

Vis ti Ilia. 
I fain would win his soul by smiles of love — 
Not barbs of hate and malice that corrodes, 



3ln t^t <©oii;Bi' <S)l)aiiotD, 21 

For Love is mightier ; and had gods made men 
With souls to know the joys of constancy, 
Lasting, but hate, like fire and molten lead, 
Burns and destroys and lasts but for a time. 
And then dies out in ashes of remorse. 
But listen, Gallus speaks. O deathless gods ! 
His very tones pierce through my heart like songs 
Of Love and Life. 

Gallus /rom the brow of the hill addresses 
the assembly : 

Gallus. 
Here on this green hill, neighbors, friends, and ye, 
If any such be here from other cities, 
Who love the gods whom Rome adores and loves — 
Here where I found this purple flower of Spring, 
The favorite of the blue-eyed goddess, here 
Bring wood to build an altar — build it thus 
So that the red-winged flame may find a way 
Through every part ; then let the Priests advance, 
Chanting their prayers to the immortal gods. 
And immolate the sacrifice ; and as 
The rich aroma borne on fragrant wings 
Of camphor, sandal, and Arabian gums. 
And washed in rare Falernian wines, ascends, 
Let the selected virgins, too, advance. 
And gathering in a circle clasp their hands 
And sing the praises of the gracious gods, 
And supplicate the blessings of the year. 



2 2 3ln tije <Soii^' <g)I)aiiotD, 

But first, as fit, seeing that every Spring, 

Soon as the sap begins to circulate 

Through the white woody arteries of the trees, 

I have for many years upon these grounds — 

My father's from his father's, and continuing 

The pious custom which he ne'er forgot — 

Offered the gods a sacrifice of praise, 

I once again repeat my pubUc prayers, 

Not with Hp-service, if I know my heart, 

But with the inward unction of the soul ; 

For quiet days of life and such a state, 

Balanced between th' effeminate luxury 

Wealth o'ermuch breeds, and the immoral care 

And griping tempt of ill-fed poverty. 

Whereby I find the time to feed my mind 

With the great words and deeds of noble men ; 

Seers and sweet singers, men of golden speech. 

Shooting my thoughts after their own high aims; 

And chiefly do I thank th' undying gods 

For reverence and the spirit of belief 

Which in me is, and for my mother's heart. 

Kindly intentioned unto everything; 

Sorrows of men and creatures everywhere. 

And that delight in Nature which I feel — 

Sun, moon, and stars, flower-growings, whispering 

nights. 
Bird songs, and chirps of crickets in the fields. 
And lovely fluttering of bright-blossomed winged 

things 



3In tiit (Sons' <S)l)aootD. 23 

O'er woodland pools where Dryads might be hid, 

Or reedy meadows fit for shaggy fauns. 

Also I thank the gods with thanks unfeigned 

For a pure name bequeathed me from a line 

Of ancestry white with unsullied fame, 

Extending back beyond that distant day 

When fled o'er the salt sea from Greece he came — 

My ancestor coeval with this town, 

A warrior mighty on the wave and land — 

To build himself an enviable name 

And house on Roman ground, and with this name 

Not unknown irrthe world, and in times past 

Father and grandsire both in the front ranks 

Of enterprise and glory, I give thanks 

That I can joy in glorious deeds, and read 

Great books, and hear immortal songs without 

Feeling the urgent spirit of Ambition 

Spurring me from my quiet fields and fire 

To seek new laurels, or to tease the Muse, 

Praying for musical words and rhythmic thought, 

Which I so love; and last, but also chief. 

Even as reverence, faith, and other gifts. 

Good through and through and without stain of evil — 

Last-mentioned, since to praise I must add prayer, 

I thank the gods for the white light of home, 

A noble wife in whom is triple grace ; 

Grace of a perfect form and radiant face, 

Sweet eyes and voice and long and lustrous hair ; 

Grace of a mind unsullied, and more rare, 



24 3In t^t (Sods' <S»i)ariotn. 

Grace of a spotless soul of womanhood 

Who seeks her honors in her husband's praise. 

Loving and gentle, sacrificing self, 

And making of her common household duties 

Sacraments all, and of her charms and powers 

Helps and new ways to cheer her husband's life, 

To lighten all his labor, buoy his hope. 

Redouble joy and lessen care by half: 

But unto us, and romping through our halls, 

The prattle of sweet children, our own fruit, 

Sounds not ; nor round our hearth on snowy nights, 

While the red-hearted log throbs in the fire, 

Faces of her and me in miniature 

Shine not. Wherefore for this we pray the gods 

Fruitful to make the augur's prophecy. 

Which promised me that from her womb should 

spring 
Children to take the edge from our old age, 
So that I may see, long ere whitening hairs. 
Red lips upon the pink buds of her breasts : 
Offspring — the flower and fruitage of our love. 
And something like a gloom is o'er our house. 
Impalpable yet real, for my sweet wife 
Some vague indisposition clouds her heart, 
In that she is not here nor cares to come ; 
Wherefore I end my praise and prayers with this: 
That the dear gods remember her past life, 
White as the sunlight and as fragrant showers. 
And so restore the joys of other days. 



3In ttje ©oD^' <§)l)atioUi, 25 

Chief Priest arising in his robes addresses 
Galhis first and then the assembly : 

Chief Priest. 
The gods unto the upright man whose heart 
Is fixed to give them worship all his days 
Look ever with sweet favor — when they give, 
Gracious, and gracious when their hands withhold. 
For men pray often to their hurt, and often 
The gods give wicked men their hearts' desire, 
In anger to destroy them, and to prayer 
Persistent nor siibmissive they send meat 
That surely brings great leanness to their lives. 
And thee, dear Gallus, have the gods long loved. 
And made thee fat with blessings, and no doubt 
Will make the augur's prophecy true in time ; 
But be not over-desirous, for though blest 
The increase of the womb and of good omen. 
Strengthening pure love with stronger bands and 

bringing 
New ties and pleasures, and to wedded women 
New honors and more rounded perfect life, 
And to the father graver thoughts and duty — 
Yet oft the mother nurses at her breast 
Her future's greatest sorrow, and gives life 
And milk of love and yearning of her heart, 
Prayers and the sleepless vigils of long nights 
To children's weal that thrive in years to come, 
To bring her and the sire whose love they shared 

4 



26 3|n ti)t <&oB;s' "^i)atiotD» 

Disgrace and heartbreak and a ruined home. 
This have I said, emboldened by my office, 
Not as though Gallus needed from my hps 
Reproof or guidance, for we know him well 
As one well pleasing to th' undying gods, 
And faithful in his ways, and all his house. 
Whom all men honor, and a citizen 
Whom rulers do delight in. Such a man 
Brings safety and the blessings of the gods 
To the community wherein he dwells — 
A model for young men, and to his friends 
Companionable hours that leave no sting, 
Wise thoughts and holy sayings and strong cheer 
To heavy hearts and minds perplexed and vexed. 
And now, dear friends, upon this altar raised 
Of unhewn stones, we offer to the gods 
The red flesh and the golden fat of lambs, 
Wine-washed and mingled with the ruby blood, 
The fleece and heart and ivory bones entire, 
And spices, and rich odors, and rare flowei's. 
But let not any soul deceive itself. 
Nor think burnt-ofiferings savory to the gods, 
From unclean hands and sodden lives of sin. 
Which are most execrable in their eyes, 
A stench unto their nostrils; and for such 
Their wrath comes on men to the uttermost — 
Famines and plagues of sickness and of wars, 
Fires and disease among their flocks, and dearth 
Of crops and madness and contrary spirits ; 



3In rtje <i5otijs' g>i)ai3otB, 27 

Temptations to destruction and base deaths. 

Therefore let each one question his own soul, 

And try his spirit, if with simple faith, 

And love and deep repentance for ill thoughts, 

Pure purpose and intent to live aright. 

He kneels and offers to the heart-reading gods 

His prayer and praise ; and let such be assured 

The gods to him are listening and grant prayers. 

And all that comes to him, however clothed 

In what strange raiment, even though of pain, 

Comes mercifully, and sent forth of gods 

To prove him and to make his after life 

More precious. And to such Death makes not 

Life 
A trembling slave that fears the Master's call. 
But resting on the favor of the gods 
Gives up his breath, like one whom Glory seeks 
With hands and heart ready for any fate. 

The sacrifice is offered and the Priests advance 
sitiging : 

First Priest. 
Should there be any one here 

Wicked in hand and in heart, 
Straying afar from thy fear, 

Gods, or have fallen apart 
From thy worship and service, forgive 
And let the ofifendincr soul live. 



28 3In t\)t <&oW <S)I)aDotD, 

Second Priest. 
Here, if, unfilial'in soul, 

Maidens and men shall have stood, 
Let not thy hot anger roll, 

Spare ye the innocent blood. 
O gods, pardon freely the vice, 
Accepting the soul's sacrifice. 

Third Priest. 
Sins of the mind and the body. 

Sins of the flesh and the soul, 
Youth with the hot blood all ruddy. 

Age that has not learned control — 
The sins that beset and that harden, 
O gods, that are merciful, pardon. 

All Priests. 
For now in the warm breathing atmosphere 
hover 
The blessings of heaven, the sunlight and rain. 
That falling on just and the unjust discover 

The hearts of the gods to the children of men; 
And as green plants that blossom return back to 
heaven 
The sweet living odors flower-hidden again, 
So the human heart touched sues for self first 
forgiven. 
And then for all sinners repenting their stains. 



3In t!)e (fi^oii«!' <g)I)atiotD. 29 

Virgins advance singing. 

First Virgin. 
For the blessing that Ues 
In the sunshiny skies, 
For the blessing the dew-fall and rain-shower 
supplies — 

All in concert. 
We praise thee, O bountiful gods. 

Second Virgitt. 
For the warm lapping airs, 
For the soil that prepares, 
Like a soul rich in pure thoughts the harvest it 
bears — 

A /I in concert. 
We praise thee, O bountiful gods. 

Third Virgin. 
For the hope of the tree, 
And the promise that be 
In the vine and the tuber and the fruit of the sea — 

All in concert. 
We praise thee, O bountiful gods. 

Fourth Virgin. 
For the flocks that increase. 
For their milk and their fleece. 



3° 3[n t^e <Sofl5' <g)b0lioto. 

For the herds that grow sleek in the pastures of 
peace — 

A// in concert. 
We praise thee, O bountiful gods. 

Fifth Virgin. 
For the joys we have had, 
For the hopes that make glad 
The hearts that without them were heavy and sad — 

All in coticert. 
We praise thee, O bountiful gods. 

Sixth Virgin. 
For all Beauty and Love, 
And sweet spirits that move 
And speak to our souls from the spring and the 
grove — 

All in concert. 
We praise thee, O bountiful gods. 

Seventh Virgin. 
For the winds that waft home, 
O'er the perilous foam, 
The white-pinioned ships that to foreign parts 
roam — 

All in concert. 
We praise thee, O bountiful gods. 



3ln tijc >&oi30' <S):^arjotD, 31 

A Matron {kneeling). 
For the child from the womb, 
And the voice from the tomb, 
And the oracle chasing its shadows of gloom — 

All in concert. 
We praise thee, O bountiful gods. 

Priests and Virgins. 
Liberal gods that float on invisible wings, 
Deep in the steel-blue depths of the ice-chilled 

springs ; 
Gods whose viewless steps are in solitudes 
Of whispering lithe green leaves and the murmuring 

woods ; 
Tolerant gods that linger in affluent plains 
Of velvet grass, fresh wet from the warm recent rains; 
Divinities all, whose majesty consciously fills 
The summits, upraised altar-like, of the loftiest hills. 

Or who dwell in languorous ease 

'Neath the rushes of the seas, 

Or the fondling generous air, 

Spirit essence everywhere, 

Incorporeal deities, 

In or under curved blue skies ; 

Gods of seasons, calms, and storms, 

Gracious face or frowning forms. 

Whom we serve or love or fear ; 

Gods whose wills forecast the year, 



32 3ln tiji; *©oi);5' <S)I)aDotD. 

And whose wishes are the springs 

Of the ways of Luck and Chance, 
All misnamed haphazard things, 

All we know as Circumstance ; 
All the powers where'er they be, 
That we feel but cannot see, 
Jove and Neptune, Mars and he. 
Swift wing-footed Mercury; 
Venus, lily-like, when she 
Blossomed from the silvery sea, 
Shaggy satyr, goat-hoofed Pan, 

And the water-nymphs that run 
From the sight of mortal man, 
Lest their eyes profane should scan 

White breasts drying in the sun — 
Each we honor here and raise 
Prayer, burnt-offerings, and praise. 
Grant us length of pastoral days, 
Joys of home and prosperous ways ; 
Hearts without the vain pretense 
That begets irreverence ; 
And a body likewise whole. 
Free from blemish as the soul ; 
Godlike strength and temperate health 
And sufficiency of wealth. 
Prayer the wife with husband joins 
For the dear fruit of their loins ; 
Bless clasped hands and reverent knees 
And sweet domesticities ; 



31n tt)t (Jdoos' 'i)!)aDotD, ss 

And in grassy wastes preserve 
Eweless lambs that bleat, and swerve 
From the fleecy folds that share 
Safety in the shepherd's care. 
Bring to stalk and golden ear 
Pregnant seeds to planters dear, 
Guarding waving fields from stings, 
Awl of gnat or horny wings. 
Save in harvest fruit-bent trees 
From bird-bills and wasps and bees, 
Or in red-leaf days and sunny, 
When the sap is changed to honey, 
Keep our maples from the breath 
Gale-blown from salt seas of Death. 
So in humble piety 
Shall our days and wishes be, 
Shall each life unstained by crimes, 
Civic turmoil of the times, 
Or the sin Ambition shares. 
Grow from youth until it bears 
Snow-white crown of reverent hairs ; 
And at Nature's closing ray 
Death be but the shining way 
Twilight leads the dying day. 
Sleep that soothes the weary hour 
Or the closing of a flower, 
Gently to that world from this. 
And unsorrowing, like Dis. 



34 3In t))t <Sorjjs' <S)l)aDotD. 

A Priest 
The rites are done. The blood-red altar smokes 
With wine and pleasant savors to the gods, 
Who also love to see the sons of men 
Light-heartedly enjoy earth's fresh good gifts; 
Therefore let each be lord of his own time, 
Led of the joy that seemeth good to him, 
In game or dance or as he will till noon. 

TAey separate to various dances, and games 
and social conversation. 

Chorus. 
First Priestess. 
The god again hath seized my soul, 
Again I see dark shadows roll 

Some awful ill portending. 
Two forms but now before me stood, 
But dimly seen and stained with blood : 
Alas, what horrent evils wait 
The soul the gods immortal hate ! 
In envy or for sin undoing 
Ever ceaselessly pursuing ; 

Ever with their actions blending 
Till they overwhelmed be 
In the grasp of Destiny. 

Second Priestess. 
Is one a woman's form ? 
As lithe as Dian buskined for the chase, 



3ln tift &oW "SiIjaQotP, 35 

Or Hebe ere she fell, all smiles, all grace ? 
Alas, on her white bosom can you trace. 

Yet breathing soft and warm, 
A drop, a jet that now becomes a flood — 

Away, it is of blood ! 
O star-zoned Venus, that a thing so fair 

So dread a fate should share ! 

J^irs/ Priestess. 
The burden is of love betrayed, 
Nor wedded wife, nor virgin maid, 
Is this the fruit love bears — 
Delicious sins and heavy-eyed despairs ? 
O woman, ever weak and ever mourning. 

Ever to thy heart and love a prey, 
The sorrow and the lonely desolate yearning. 
Or else the darkness and the constant burning 
When men and gods betray 
Virtue that yields not, dying broken-hearted, 
Or, sadder still, life, love, and hope, and fame 
departed ! 

Second Priestess. 
Ah me, whichever way the fates may prove, 
An altogether evil thing is Love ; 
And wise is she who, held in Dian's chaste 

protection, 
Has steeled her heart against the gods, and men's 
affection. 



36 3ln ti)t <25oD;s' €)I)aiioto. 

Woe to the virgin whose uncovered charms 

The amorous Jove espies ! 
Alas, the sheen of bare white legs and arms, 

Or bosoms that tempt deities from the skies ! 

The vengeance of the goddesses pursue. 
The wrath of Juno will the hapless maiden rue, 

And man's love e'er is made of broken faiths 

And jealous sorrows and unholy deaths. 

C/iorus of Priestesses. 
Darker clouds arise, 
And on the Earth the red of blood. 
A shower of flame rains downward from the skies 
Seething the grass, wet with th' ensanguined 

flood. 
The vision grows more clear. 
Alas, the dread fulfilment draws more near. 
The drama of the gods is ripe for speech ; 
Two actors come, dread Fate pursuing each ! 

At various parts of the field the revelers are 
seen, while Vistillia a7id Gallus approach 
from different directions and meet at the 
base of the hill of sacrifice, 

Gallus. 
I had not dreamed to find thee here to-day. 

Vistillia. 
Once thy quick eye had pierced a larger throng, 



3ln tf)t ^05^' <g)^aflotD* 37 

Impatient and expectant for my face, 

Or meeting unexpectedly surprise 

Had doubled joy. Alas, how changed thou art ! 

Ga//us. 
With no ill-will. Oh, I would spare thee pain ; 
The gods that read the open hearts of men 
Know I would not add so much weight of sorrow 
Unto thee as th' impalpable burden borne 
Upon the sessile thistle-seed in air. 

Vistillia. 
In every word thou dost unsheathe a dagger. 

Callus. 
Not purposely. Oh, let our paths divide 
As the divergent streams that meet no more ! 

Visiillia. 
Once parting was to thee the curse of Jove. 

Callus. 
Full well I know th' intention of thy thought ; 
But there are words a woman should not speak, 
Thoughts she should veil, nor by a blush confess. 
And feelings which should roll no surging wave 
Of bold expression tongueward for her sex^ — ■ 

Vis til I ia. 
Love is not circumscribed in ardent souls 
By sex, or by the stale decrees of custom ; 



38 3In t\)t (Sotijs' <g)^aliofe. 

But sexless, like a disembodied spirit, 
Pleads its dear cause ; or, like the incensed Jove, 
Thunders its wrath and shrieks for dire revenge, 
Even though fleshed in woman's frailer frame. 
As 'tis a law a prophetess may speak, 
When brooded o'er by the oracular god, 
With the divine authority of a priest, 
Unhedged by the restrictions of her sex, 
Though born a woman and by fame debarred. 

Gal/us. 
Oh say not so ; nay, but thou art too bold, 
O'erleaping womanly usage and shy ways. 
Birdlike, that so become her milder soul ; 
And to be over bold finds less desert. 
Even in th' insatiate eyes of uncloyed Love, 
Than to be over coy, which whets Desire. 

Vistillia. 
What changed unnatural heart is this of thine, 
Whose fountains spray forth waters sweet and 

bitter ! 
Gods ! what a different burden was thy plaint 
When first thy soul confessed in me a sovereign ! 
My unwon spirit, free and passion-proof, 
Like Dian, scorned the yoke of mortal man. 
And with unfeigned indifference heard thy suit. 
Loving to rather lose myself in fields 
Of yellow bloom, blue larkspur, or to climb 
O'er dizzy crags most inaccessible, 



3In tlje (Sons' <S)i)aflotD. 39 

Journeying the sun-bright Summer ; or by the sea — 
The gale-blown sea whose salty spray and air 
Breathes but of Neptune's mermaids amber-haired — 
I loved to wander gathering curious shells ; 
Else o'er the glittering wave, when other girls, 
Their white arms flashing even as its crest, 
Rowed, I was foremost of the fleet ; yet praise 
Of man I valued not, especially thine. 
Then to thy wild persistence and despair 
I listened curiously, and lo, Compassion — 
A god astray to do a virgin harm — 
Pleading thy cause fulfilled my woman's doom : 
A maid who barkens ever is undone. 

Gallus. 
Even the gods pursue, the virgins flee, 
Showing us the celestial way of Love — 
The man aggressive, but the virgin shy. 

Vistillia. 
Was I not such ? Alas, but love confessed, 
The shadow Shame flits like the cloudy Night 
Before the kindling Day dissolved quite. 

Gallus. 
Love is a fawn that shuns the hunter's eye 
In leafy copse, and woman wins this way, 
Fleeing Love's ardent glance and haunting step. 
And yet inflames more by her blushful shame 
Than beauty unabashed that turns to woo. 



4° 3In t^t <Sofls' <i)i)aDotD, 

Vistillia. 
Yea, even a wild gazelle upon the hills, 
Conquered at last, forsakes its rocky haunts 
To smooth the tamer's hands. Ah, doubly harsh. 
Snakelike in tongue as those whose twice-forked 

fang 
Cuts the receding flesh, and in the wound 
From the near bulb injects a poisoned flood — 
Thou, first to win with long persistent suit, 
And then to argue thus ! Whose genial ray 
First thawed the ice of maidenly reserve. 
Striving to haste the Spring of Love to Summer, 
And chid me then for being over frigid 
As now for the reverse ? 

Gallus. 

This is a woman ; 
Fragrant, a flower, the darhng of the sun. 
Veiling its beauty when the god of day 
Closes his loving eye — that droops and wilters 
Until his beams shine light and love again : 
But when the winter time of love has come 
Dies blossom, leaf, and root. 

Vistillia. 

There is one sun 
Potent that brings to birth and blesses all, — 
Grass, tree, and flower, and every living thing, — 
Light-loving, but it grows no bitterness. 



3In t})e v&oD^' <S)t)aDotD, 41 

Oh, surely ne'er was bitterness like Love's, 

Sweet to the lips, but gall unto the soul. 

There is one only sun, but many men. 

Suitors innumerable were at my feet ; 

Strong, too, of arm, and fleet of foot as thee, 

Brave, and in mind and soul not less than thee. 

Ah, serpent-wise again, why didst thou seek 

One, mayhap sole of all, who feigned to love 

Assiduously to win my maiden heart, 

Then trample it as tigers sprung for prey 

Crush the wild flowers they sniffed beneath their 

paws. 
Careless what love of bees or light of sun 
Cared for and nourished them. This is a man : 
A changeful tyrant, faithful when disdained. 
Constant to frowns and suing when denied. 
Ardent pursuing ; in possession cold. 
To whom the heart a clinging captive made 
Has lost its most attractive charm and gift. 
Ah me, inconstant as the treacherous sea ! 
What men call Love is Passion's least foul guise 
Arrayed in stolen robes of royal love. 
As cold gray flint or snow on mountain tops 
In distance gleams like silver veins, or gems. 
Have I not found it so ? 

O libelous 
And harsh, to hold the reason of a man 
6 



42 3In tiit <^oD;5' <S)I)aQotD» 

T' account, for the light fancy of a boy ! 
Who mourns last Summer's sweetness in this May? 
But rather thanks the gods for pleasures past, 
And seeks t' extract from new and living sources 
Their deep-pent treasures, as the thieving bee 
Flits o'er dead flowers, but sucks from living bloom 
The sugary deposit. 

Vistillia. 
Have three years, 
That even on Caesar, with the ponderous weight 
Of world-wide empire pressing on his soul, 
Have left no visible mark — have three short years 
So widened, broadened, amplified thy soul 
That now the man scorns th' unaccountable boy ? 
How has thy taste improved — thy soul grown 

grand ? 
What now inspires that then thy mind knew not 
Being dull and eyeless to its higher range? 
In what to which thy soul was then attuned. 
The perfect harmonies that swell therein 
Now hear but discord as our skilled musicians 
Turn stunned from clanging of barbaric horns 
Or art thou still the same, and it may be 
Some fatal fault in me — some dire defect 
Hid from thy sight three years agone is now 
In all its rude deformity exposed ? 
Or perhaps ungentle time, and partial too, 
Dealing, like men, less tenderly with woman 



31n tl)C »J5oD^' <@)J)aliotD. 43 

Than man, 't is haply some sad mark of age, 
Grief, or the burning fire of Love itself, 
Flaming too fiercely for the too weak lamp 
In which it shrined itself, are all to blame. 
Yet if a cheek or eye alone inthralled 
This cheek, is it less fair? these eyes less true. 
This heart less loving — yea, this heart less chaste? 
Thou durst not say it, yet this love of mine — 

Ga//us. 
Is Love a wanton whose salacious eye 
By the mere catalogue of fleshly charms 
Is snared, as gallants in the streets of Rome 
Follow inviting eyes or shapely legs. 
Or glowing bosoms smooth to all men's hands ? 

Vistillia. 
Have I no claim ? And after all these years? 

Callus. 
Then Love is that great bitter ill of men, 
Dreader than Death, or that appalling change 
When wise lips lose their wisdom, and instead 
Babble of foolish fancies and strange thoughts 
Fantastic — then is Love the bondsman's curse. 
When the heart changes, if with iron ties 
Law shackles still the soul to one unloved, 
Fast bound, like galley slaves unto the oar. 
So to the heart's aversion. By the gods ! 



44 3fn ti)e »Soij^' <i)l)aiiott). 

What man can bid Love go or bid him stay ? 
If love be free, then lovers joy as gods. 
But the unwilling kiss, or forced embrace, 
Is as a dead man's touch. 

Vistillia. 

How many times 
Vehemently hast thou argued otherwise, 
Swearing what oaths that thou wert ever mine ? 

Gallus. 
Forbear — if that sweet helplessness of woman 
That cannot plead its love, but voiceless dies — 
If that be not in thee, then summon pride, 
That sterner virtue of our Roman ladies ; 
That serious vestal call. Philosophy, — 
Whate'er may nerve thee calmly to bear sorrow. 
That as thy soul resolved thus bravely dares 
Will crystallize its bitter into sweetness; 
For all souls find in their extremity 
The gods have pitted deep in seeming Sorrow 
Th' eternal kernel Joy. Oh, hold it true, 
And pain — 

Vistillia. 
The gods now judge between us twain. 
Just are the gods, and not to be deceived 
By words that echo with a pious sound, 
Or bribed by altars heaped and obvious zeal. 
I, if for sin the gods, who cannot bear 



3ln ti)t <S>on^' «S>^aiiotD, 45 

Foulness or aught uncleanliness of soul — 
I now bear punishment as those who have 
Transgressed their law, yet not the less to thee, 
The instrument by whom the gods afflict me, 
Will come in their due time affliction too, 
In that thy hand hath smitten without pity. 
Being alike in guilt, and with smooth words, 
Each as the cat's paw, velvet to the touch, 
Hides in its cushion the sharp piercing claw, 
Cutting a jagged sorrow in my soul, 
Worse than keen tusk or tearing claw. Aye, know 
Even now I am avenged ; the draught of woe 
Which thou so heartlessly wouldst have me quaff 
The gods give thee. 

Ga//us. 

Thou speakest as with power. 
What meanest thou ? what threat lies in that word ? 

Vistillia. 
Thou hast despised my love for one less warm. 

Callus. 
Beware ! Let not thy lips forswear thy life. 

Vistillia. 
The cold, chaste beauty that holds thee enthralled 
Scarce loves thee — on mere sufferance stands thy 
love. 

Callus. 

Durst thou ! — Oh, even thou shouldst fear my hate ! 



46 3In t^t <$o3;s' €)I)aDotD, 

Vis ti Ilia. 
Nay, prove it to thyself, if thou wouldst see. 
She meets thee not with raptures as of old. 
Nor eyes enkindled eloquent with love, 
Renewing youth and hope on each occasion 
With a fresh gladness, nor a wistful face 
Where hunger yields to final satisfaction 
To greet thy coming home. About her lies 
An air of chill abstraction as of one 
Indifferent, or who dwells in other worlds. 
Her body here but all her thoughts and spirits 
Alien, and her eyes on other scenes. 
Or even as one awaking from a couch, 
Sleep-walking. Does she ever praise thee now ? 
Neighbors and friends and all who know thee well 
Praise thee — does e'er their praise awake her 

pride ? 
The things thou lovest, are they made her care ? 
Surely it well becomes a Roman wife. 
Who holds the praise of far-off men and times 
Worthless or trivial balanced in the scale 
With commendation from the man she loves, 
Their children, or a-building happy homes — 
It well becomes her as the bridal wreath 
Blossomed and wound around her shining hair 
To make her husband's hopes hers, and his tastes 
Hers, and to see through his eyes and to feel 
Her heart and his throb pulse for pulse, not two 
But one indissolubly united heart; 



3In tije (tolls' «S)l)aootD, 47 

Twin blossoms springing from a common stem 
And welded by contiguous growth to one. 

Gallus. 
The gods have made thee variant with thyself, 
Mouth against heart, for this, though filled with 

hate 
And evil surmise that the gods who guard 
Pure souls against the craft of evil minds, 
Have used to limn with nice precision, my wife, 
In whom there is no difference in the least 
From thy true picture of a perfect wife, 
No wanderer from her home nor save indeed 
As all true hearts delight in good men's praise, 
Anxious to please the thoughts of aught save me. 
From whom her joys and honors radiate, 
In whom her thoughts and highest hopes are cen- 
tered ; 
Therefore, this knowing, steeled against suspicion. 
The sickly spleen of thy vile jealousy 
On my invulnerable faith 
Makes no impression more than yeasty waves 
Upon the iron-hard prow that cuts them through 
But even if thy surmisings were all true, 
I love her more than ever I loved thee. 

Vis ti Ilia. 
She loves another more than she loves thee. 
And so the gods avenge me on thy wrong. 



48 3In t\)t <0oDs' 'S)i^aiiott). 

Gallus. 
My love may laugh at this. Oh weakly false, 
She who is "cold" and "chaste" and "chill," be 

sure 
The .current of her blood runs ever thus, 
Seeking no paramour or guilty love. 

Vis ti Ilia. 
By all the gods I swear I speak the truth : 
She loves a malefactor more than thee. 

Galhis. 
Name him — attire this most improbable lie 
In hell's worst cunning, but its livery 
Would fit so ill, the figure were grotesque. 

Vis ti Ilia. 
Ah, lynx-eyed mole when lovers are compared ! 
Trusting that will not harbor fear nor see ! 
Gallus, thou fightest an almighty rival — 
A woman's religion — the proverbial zeal, 
Of a young convert's fresh and novel faith, 
Before which fade all love and hopes of men. 
Nor wisdom of gray hairs nor strength of arm, 
Power nor the quick agility of youth 
Nor honors nor the sweetest gifts of Earth 
Have power to cope with the enthusiasm 
New converts feel, but smitten to death and slain 
Ingloriously, and even a mother's love 



3In t^t <SoiJ;B' <g)f)aDotD. 49 

Turns evil to the prattling babe that lies 
Held on her knees and with its dimpled feet 
Toying ; how much more to her husband's creed, 
Which in the sight of her enlightened eyes 
Is evil as the plague or snake-wise cursed. 

Gallus. 
I follow not thy meaning — art thou mad? 

Vistillia. 
The criminal executed in Judea, 
The Christ so-called — this white-souled wife of 

thine 
Is of those atheists who worship him ; 
So if perchance 

Thou wouldst now go unto the Coliseum, 
Or to a feast, or to a public game, 
Or even as now give offerings to the gods, 
She will not dare profane herself to go, 
Preferring with that low, malignant sect 
Hating mankind to hold unnatural orgies 
Unfit for the pure eyes of day to see. 

Gallus. 
Thou hast cut in my heart; if this be true — 

Vistillia. 
Hadst thou been less her slave it had been patent. 

Gallus. 
How didst thou learn it? How cam'st thou to know? 

7 



5© 3In rt)t <&oD^' <S)^aflotn. 

Vistillia. 
What matter how one sick caught the disease? 

Gallus. 
'T is false ! The gods I serve would spare me this. 

Vistillia. 
Have I not served them ? Have they spared me 

pain ? 

Gallus. 

But not to suffer such a shame as this — 
A wife false to the gods and my deep love. 

Vistillia. 
Why worse than thee, false to my love and fame ? 

Gallus. 
But truly she did fondly love me once. 

Vistillia. 
But now her love and lips are all toward Christ. 

Gallus. 
A Jew — a Jew — and even of Jews despised. 

Vistillia. 
For this thou spurn'st my love and bade depart 
For one who shudders at thee as accurst. 

Gallus. 
If this be true — 



3In tl)e 6oDjs' €)t)acotp, 51 

Vistillia. 

If thou canst prove it false 
Hurl me from Tarpeia's rocks sheer to the base. 

Callus. 
Then may the gods doom me to their worst hate 
If I do not receive thee back again. 

Vistillia. 
And she who stole thee from my previous claim ? 

Gallus. 
I leave her to the gods she has forsworn. 

Vistillia. 
The edict reads that those who harbor Christians 
Shall suffer with them. Thou m.ust yield her up. 

Galltis. 
Thou hast not proved it true — it must be false. 

Vistillia. 
Then listen ; lo, the gods have fought for me ! 

As they converse they have walked apart 
from the company close to Galhis^s house, 
separated from his garden by a hedge of 
trees. Julia is in the garden, singing. Gal- 
lus ^notions Vistillia away, who returtis to 
the revelers while he listens. 



52 3In tfft (SoD;S' <g)I)ai)otij, 

Ju/ia (shtgwg). 
Jesus, Saviour, Power of God, 

At thy altar, low I lie ! 
Deign to me thy grace afford. 

Deign to harken to my cry. 
Impotent my will and power, 

Vain the help that man can give ; 
Be my strength each passing hour. 

Be my help while here I live. 

Galliis (solus). 
How like a bird she sings that mounts to heaven. 
Borne on the wings of his own ecstasy ! 

Julia. 
Jesus, Wisdom, Power Divine, 

Pity my dark ignorance ! 
Light of Life, within me shine. 

Ever guide me with thy glance. 
Guard from man's philosophy, 

Purge my heart from self-esteem ; 
Let thy Cross my study be. 

Be thy Love my constant theme. 

Gallus (solus). 
How sweet that face like heaven's sunny skies, 
When all the gods smile on us, and that cheek 
Fairer than Hebe's or the rosy stain 
Blushed through the milk-white cup she brought to 
Jove. 



3In tift ©oDjs' <&i^aliotDt 53 

I could forgive her every crime but this. 

Gods ! not for me she keeps her love, but rather 

To waste her prayers upon the Crucified, 

Despising the immortal gods for Him — 

The gods that send us favoring winds and skies. 

Full-loaded harvests, corn and vines and oil. 

The increase of our flock and all our joys. 

(After a pause.) 
And yet 't were death to cleave my soul from hers. 
(Discovers himself.) 

Julia. 
My lord, what heavy cloud is o'er thy heart ? 

Callus. 
Thy absence blots the sunshine from my soul. 

Julia. 
Flesh is a weak source for true happiness. 

Callus. 
But love is the divinest gift of gods. 

Julia. 
But love fails in the palsying hour of death. 

Callus. 
At death man's only hope is in the gods. 

Julia. 
They have not lifted up the veil for hope. 



54 3(n tlje <©oiifl!' "Sljaiiohj, 

Gallus. 
We have been happy — have we not been blest ? 

Jtilia. 
Aye, my dear lord, but ever o'er our heads 
That sword of Damocles — dissevering Death. 

Gallus. 
What change is this? Why is thy heart estranged 
Far from the gods ? for this way come sad fears 
And moody fancies, but the gods delight 
To crown with blessing those who honor them. 

Julia. 
Have e'er they given thee thy heart's full prayer ? 

Gallus. 
Even now 't is answered ; even this very morn, 
Learning the will of the unchanging gods 
From entrails of the birds that sing their praise, 
The future-reading augurs prophesy 
To us a child if thou wilt join with me 
In offerings and garlands to the gods 
Upon this dedication at this time. 

Julia. 
My lord, I cannot — never to thy gods. 

Gallus. 
Dear love, what joy can happen save through 
them ? 



3In tilt (Soo^' <^l)aaotD, 55 

Julia. 
The gods thou worshippest are only demons, 
Whose service is destruction worse than death. 

Gallus. 

Oh, deathless curses on th' abhorrent tongue 
Whose deadly casuistry hath so misled thee ! 

Julia. 
Truth speaks to those who have an open heart. 
Susceptible, and those who hear obey. 

Gallus. 
Why shouldst thou spurn the gracious gods we love, 
Or wake the dreaded wrath of those we fear ? 

Julia. 

There is no fear of wrath of men or gods 
To those in shelter of the Truth divine. 

Gallus. 
Bethink thee of thy noble father's life, 
Who died in faith and service of the gods. 

Julia. 

No soul is sponsor for another's life ; 
I cannot hurt him, nor can he help me. 

Gallits. 
Thou canst thy mother ; and her reverent head, 
White with the snow of venerable years, 
Will droop with shame at thy apostasy. 



$6 3In ti)t <£>oDS' '§>i)aDoh). 

Julia. 
I see a shining path, and at the end 
A great light burning. I must follow on, 
Drawn onward by my inelectable fate. 

Gallus. 
How is my heart made desolate, and my home. 
And bitter all the service of my life. 
Almost as if my gods had failed my hope. 

Jtdia. 
At any time have e'er thy gods found voice 
Answering thy prayers, or held an unstopped ear 
To pity or preserve ? At any time 
Hath the dim plastic future mapped itself 
Before their incorporeal sight aright. 
That seer, priest, virgin, fasting or by vigils 
Alone on lonely mountains, or strong prayers, 
Weeping for sin, induced thy gods to speak 
Through them of days yet distant? Gods of 

stone, 
Chiseled by cunning hands from quarried blocks; 
Idols of wood of which the hewer stood 
Who felled it from the green umbrageous trees, 
And meditated, leaning on his ax : 
" This part shall fire consume to give me warmth. 
Cooking my food ; this part the carver's craft 
Shall fashion me a god " — a dead, dried stick, 
Without the sappy life it had in the forest, 



3In ti)c ^oDjs' <S)i^aBotD. 57 

When winds blew through its stirring leaves, and 

made 
The semblance of a voice that all might hear. 

Gallus. 
Have not the oracles the future read ? 

Julia. 
With double meaning ever do they speak, 
Which any after fact may aptly fit. 

Gallus. 
I worship not dumb images, which are 
But visible reminders of the gods, 
Who are themselves invisible and hid. 

Julia. 
I worship Christ alone, th' Incarnate God. 
Gallus. 

wife, this Galilean turns a curse ! 
Darkly between our lives and mutual hopes 
The blighting shadow of His Cross is cast. 
Like sudden death and ends of life-long loves. 

Jtilia. 

1 love God more, but love thee no whit less. 

Gallus. 
But ah, the bitter, bitter fruit of Christ ! 
That sweet companionship — that linked heart, 
Whose pulse beat time with mine, beats so no more. 
8 



58 3In t^t <©oD;b' <i)l)aDoh). 

Julia. 
I love and reverence thee, my husband, still. 

Gallus. 
Thou walk'st a different path — a way diverse : 
'T is not in me — there is no change in me; 
Thou hast forsaken me, and not I thee ; 
Thou hast turned false unto thy mother's gods. 
Forsworn thy childhood's faith and the deep joy 
Of love and life — our love that blessed our ways 
And from it all the radiance of our lives. 
Hast thy God given thee fuller joys than these? 
That made the dear old paths of Mother Earth 
Elysium, and all things upon her breast 
Of majesty and beauty one with us. 
Heart throbbing with them, full of fearless joy 
Interpreting their secrets. Now thy heart 
On some mirage of other worlds is set — 
Some vision the rapt eye of Frenzy sees, 
Of cities fabulous that need no sun 
For light nor sea rolls on their ghostly coast. 
As if the gods despised their handiwork. 
Ah, wife ! in the bright zenith of our joy 
Birds and green leaves and streams and quiet 

nights 
Were of us and our love ; but now how changed ! 
With what indifferent eyes thou walk'st abroad. 
As if the soft, rich light of the glad sun. 
The tremulous happiness of chirping fields 



3In ti)( (Soajs' ^i)aiiotD, 59 

And populous grasses quivering with delight 

Were evil, and this earth a charnel-house, 

And love the most accursed thing of all. 

What madness is this creed ! that turns to stone, 

Medusa-like, the promptings of the heart. 

Dwarfing affection and implanting hate 

To all the joys of men and praise of gods, 

Sweet stories and the revelings of the mind. 

Beautiful thoughts and poetry, and words 

Fire-winged from men of god-like gifts and speech. 

Oh ! if there be a God apart, distinct 

From this close, tangible world, ask of your soul 

Can this be laud acceptable to him. 

To hold him as the sleuth-hound on the path 

Of his creation, placing round their souls 

Delight and hope of color, sound, and odor, 

Love and bright fancies woven in the life. 

And to the vibrant soul whose chords respond 

To unseen spiritual touches from their depths, 

Rending it as a culprit. If 't were so 

Better the full womb should abort its fruit. 

And all sweet prattling babes and love's fond hopes, 

And nature and the monstrous universe 

By some inchoate force be hurled again 

To chaos and illimitable death. 

Julia. 
Do I not love thee ? Night and day my prayers, 
With fastings of my body and strong tears 



6o 3ln tJje iotas' <g)]^atiotD, 

Drawn from my heart, attest to God the love 

I bear thee and my deep and earnest cry 

For thy enlightenment. Oh ! who can know 

Travail of soul like mine — the thorny road, 

The darkness of the path with bleeding feet 

I trod though shrinking impotently, drawn 

As one whom winds and waves have made a prey, 

And forced to an unreckoned consummation 

Before I found this peace ineffable? 

How can I tell thee ? How can I describe 

To thee whose soul has never felt alarm, 

Nor seen how o'er th' uncertain path of life 

The hounds of sin and hell hunt down the soul. 

The doom beyond reversal of all flesh 

That dares to stand before the righteous throne 

Of Infinite Holiness in its own name? 

I know not how it slipped o'er my own soul, 

Horror and fear, and consciousness of sin, 

And the appalling vision of the Just 

In whose perfection sin or aught of ill 

Abides not, as in some terrific fire 

The embers are consumed till naught remains ; 

But that clear revelation to my soul 

Seized it beyond the sophist's peradventure — 

Oh, strong like truth or griping like despair — 

And all of earth, all helps of books and men, 

All pleasures, hopes, ambitions of the past 

Forsook me as one stepping in quicksand 

Feels the earth reel and sink beneath his feet, 



3!n ti)e <fi5ofl^' <S)I)aiiotD, 6i 

And heaven above brass, and the lights of skies 

Mocking, and nature leagued against his weal, 

And life a drop in th' ocean eternity. 

And all life's hopes and joys and pride but this, — 

As one who, sentenced to be crucified 

To-morrow, should spend all to-day in play, 

Gambling, and worried if he lost the game. 

Or making plans to build him a new house, 

Or any madcap thought or freak, so death 

Dwarfs all our human grandeur ; makes men's joys 

Madness, when the dread after fate is known — 

Tomes, pictures, pleasures — Oh, if one had drunk 

Hemlock inadvertently, how mad 

To loiter on the pathway to the leech 

Admiring some rapt butterfly poised o'er flowers ! 

So when I felt my spirit's bonds to sin, 

God's purity, and in me my dread soul 

Deathless, with hell or heaven for its place, 

I had no thought but to escape my doom ; 

Yet all my spirit too was mutinous. 

And every moral fiber in me rose 

'Gainst Christ, and battled strenuously his claims, 

With sinister voices too against God's ways, 

Sad, crass debating wearisome to myself, 

Of sin, foreknowledge, and of his elect. 

For whom my unregenerate heart felt hate ; 

But grisly death and lurid flames of hell 

Flamed nearer, peering in upon my soul 

With raucous echoes of their blasphemies, 



62 3!n tf)t <S>oW "g)^anotti. 

And drove me in an agony of fear, 
Hatred, despair, and broken heart for sin 
At Christ's feet, where, like some wild animal 
Held firmly in the victor's net, I struggled — 
Struggled against God's strong compelling love, 
Struggled against the pleading eyes of Christ — 
Until one moment when my heart was changed, 
And love flowed in, and Christ was all in all, 
With sin and fear and unbelief behind. 
And holiness and hope, eternal hope, 
God's love and final triumph over sin. 
And peace before, around, within, above. 
What marvel from my soul's life history then, 
I worship Christ, who died to purchase me. 

Ga//us. 
1 worship Jove, Mars, Venus, all the gods 
And goddesses, the piety of Rome, 
Our ancestors and fathers gave a name — 
Gods of the hills, the valleys, and the streams, 
The breathing hollows and the listening air, 
Woods and the mighty blue, o'er-arching heavens. 
Oh, serve the thorn-crowned specter of the Cross 
If it beseem religion unto thee. 
But why not reverence too the other gods ? 

The Triune God is God of gods, whose word 

Spake into being the cycling universe, 

Which from him throned in inaccessible sheen. 



3In t})t »SoD^' 'S»;^aiiotD. 6^ 

Borrows light and heat and every motive power, 
And will not give his glory to thy gods. 

Callus. 
What then ? If I kneel down to other names, 
Calling him Jove ; the Zeus of the Greeks — 
Seers of the pestilent circumcised say Jahveh — 
Although their herd of trembling followers 
Forbear to speak th' Incommunicable Name ; 
Thou call'st him Jesus — is he less a god 
Or shorn divinity if thou shouldst homage 
The gods or incense the imperial statue ? 

Julia. 
Oh, tempt me not ! in vain it is to ask. 

Gallus. 
If I praise Pan on reeds and with sweet savors. 
For ewes that bring forth safely ; if I pray 
Pomona for the fullness of the year, 
Red apples and huge grapes that look in the sun 
Bursting with blood for fatness ; if of Neptune 
I crave safe passage o'er the rutilant foam, 
And thy God only has the power to hear, 
Shall my sobbed prayer die fruitless in my heart 
Because directed wrong ? Nay, rather hold 
The heart being right, this strife of names and 

honors 
The God of gods smiles at, and hears alike 
The grateful soul that prays to Jove or Jesus. 



64 3In t^e »Soti;6' <S)i)atJotD, 

Julia. 
The blind guide his blind follower leads astray, 
And both fall in the ditch and are destroyed. 

Gallus. 
Art thou aware thy danger ? Art aware 
What punishment the Emperor's edict 
Metes to this pestilence ? That I too stand 
In this same penalty if I harbor thee ? 
Bethink again — burn incense unto Caesar, 
Or sacrifice to all the living gods. 

Julia. 
Great Caesar holds his power but by permission, 
And could not stretch his arm forth o'er a saint 
Unless God willed it. 

Gallus. 
Oh ! but spare thyself! 
Think of the shame, the agony, the death ! 

Julia. 
Earth's agonies have but a temporal pang, 
But after death to souls that slip from God 
There is eternal bale. Oh, fear this more, 
And Christ will dull the fangs of wolfish men ! 

During this conversation Vistillia has re- 
turned with several tnale revelers. At 
this poitit they discover themselves, seizing 
Julia, and restraining Gallus, who essays 
to shield her. 



3In tl)t ^oDs' <S)!)ai)oto» 65 

First Reveler. 
Hale this blasphemer to the magistrate. 

Second Reveler. 
Nay, Gallus, is this like thy piety ? 
The gods will reap great honor in her death, 
And thou great blessing. 

Gallus. 
Good friends, let me die ; 
My heart is dead already. 

A Priest. 

No — long years 
Winged with ripe blessings now are imminent 
To one who has served the gods as faithfully 
As Gallus has. Oh, crown a noble hfe 
By cheerfully surrendering unto them 
Their enemy, and surely therefore thine ; 
And haply if thy heart with hers is linked 
That its divorce were death, the pitying gods 
Who heard Pygmalion's prayer will grant repentance 
Unto thy erring wife. 

First Reveler (to his neighbor). 
Ah, desperate hope ! 
These Christians die with wondrous obstinacy. 

Second Reveler. 
Deluded fools ! they dream of golden streets 
In some eternal city of the saints, 

9 



66 3In ti)t (Solijs' <S)l)aDotD. 

Domes of clear emerald, chrysoprase and pearl, 
Crystalline rivers and immortal fruits, 
Delicious more than the Hesperides, 
Rewards of martyrdom. 

Third Reveler. 

'T is marvelous ! 
The other day a boy of fifteen years. 
Mad through this sect, left father, mother, friends. 
And sat on blistering chairs as though on flowers, 
Braved scourge and tongs, and still sang hymns to 

Christ, 
And in the very teeth of seething fire 
That hissed ensanguined by his copious blood 
Refused to worship Cssar, and so died 
Adoring Christ. 

Second Reveler. 

Rivers of blood have flown, 
And yet this noxious sect makes headway still. 
As though Christ could depose th' immortal gods 
As old gray Saturn was o'erthrown by Jove. 

The priests form in line, approach, and sing 
in succession. 

First Priest. 
Do they dream that the gods 

We have worshipped for years 
Are as grass of the sods 

That the harvest sun seres ; 



3ln tf)e (Sous' <§)]^aliotD, 67 

That the Clirist who was born yesterday 
Should conquer, depose them, and slay ? 

Second Priest. 
Could the Man who in terror 

Cried out on the Cross, 
Convinced of his error. 

To a God who ne'er was — 
Could he guide Neptune's chariot or run. 
And bridle the steeds of the sun? 

Third Priest. 
Our fathers have told. 

In the years that are past. 
Of the man over bold 

Who would fondly be classed 
With the god of the sun ; and his doom 
Was worse than Christ's Cross and his tomb. 

Fourth Priest. 
Would they have us forsake 

Gods of life and the grave. 
For the Corpse on the stake 

Who himself could not save ? 
Would they have us bow down knee and head 
To a crucified body and dead ? 

Fifth Priest. 
Oh, what succor could be 

To the soul that lifts hand 
Unto eyes that nor see 

Nor can e'er understand ? 



68 3In t^t <Z5oli«i' <S)I)aiioto. 

Oh, what answer to supplicant breath 
That prays to the stopped ears of Death ? 

Sixth Priest. 
Could this shadow, this shade, 

Of a Being that was 
P'rom the tomb where he laid 

When torn down from the Cross — 
Could he cast off his grave-clothes, and wait 
Where the gods sit in glory and state. 

They would laugh, they would scorn 

This scarred specter of clay, 
Who thus mangled and torn 

Would be even as they ; 
With the marks of the nail and the spear. 
He would wither and die in new fear. 
Julia. 

blind and unwise ! 

In the dark web of Fate, 
Ye shall open your eyes, 

But alas, all too late ! 
Your palms itch for blood, 

And your feet run to death ; 
Like a venomous bud 

Is the word of your breath, 

1 know that before me 
The path is of pain, 

But the pangs to flow o'er me 
Will rend me in vain. 



3In t^t <S>or\fi' "©IjaDotD, 69 

For Christ the Eternal 

Will clothe me with power, 
And the sorrows I mourn all 

Will die in an hour. 
But when Death springs to sever 

Earth's last prop and thee, 
O skeptic, forever 

Thy torment will be ! 

PHesf. 
They nailed Christ to the Tree — 
Had he strength to come down ? 

In his side was a spear, 
On his head a mock crown. 
He cried out with fear — 
What hope then for thee ? 

Julia. 
Ere ever the sea had its currents, 

Or the mountains sat firm on their base, 
Or the day had the sun for its guardian, 

Or the stars had their torches and place. 
From the infinite hoar everlasting 

The eternal sure purpose outran 
That God the Creator should ransom 

The sins of the creature man ; 
And so like a bird o'er its nestlings, 

With wide-hovering wings stretched abroad, 
Was love brooding o'er the abysm. 

Even love from the full heart of God. 



70 3ln tf)t (S>oJ}fi' €)I)aiiotD. 

And so from the very beginning, 

In the regions beneath and above, 
Love fondled the scarred hands of suffering, 

And Mercy was twin-born with Love ; 
Whence down the long vista of ages. 

By prophecy, ritual, and type, 
The message was sung of His advent 

Who should come when his season was ripe. 
O world-wide, expectant tradition, 

Since ever the race began. 
Of a God who should come down from heaven 

In the flesh and the form of a man. 

For the seed the Creator had planted 

Had borne him a monstrous fruit, 
And accursed blossoms were grafted 

Upon an impeccable root. 
In outbreaking sin and rebellion 

In blasphemy, venom, and hate 
Were the race whom the Lord had created 

And blessed in an innocent state ; 
And the Lord looked down from his dwelling, 

And who to his holy throne 
For the race could make expiation 

Or e'en for his own sins atone ? 
None save an immaculate Being 

Of infinite value and worth. 
That owed not a creature's allegiance. 

Could ransom the sin-cursed earth. 



3In ti)t <Soii;6' <g):^ai>oh). 71 

Oh, only a God could ofifer 

A sacrifice so complete 
That Law still could triumph in heaven 

Yet Justice and Mercy meet ; 
That evil should still be punished, 

Yet the sinner be pardoned by law, 
And the serfdom of sin be broken, 

And the kingdom of God without flaw. 

Christ descended from heaven 
To die for his own ; 
His sufferings atone 
For the sins of his people, his elect are forgiven ; 
By the nail-print, the thorn-crown, the blood- 
shed, the thrust 

Of the spear, are all shriven 
The sinners repentant who in them put trust. 

FriesL 
Away ! we will not hear this blasphemy. 
Convey her to the magistrate. 

Julia is removed, and Priest addresses 
Chorus : 

What saith the god that spoke through thee to this ? 

Chorus. 
The vision is confused — it is not time. 

Priest. 
Canst thou see nothing ? is she not foredoomed ? 



72 3In tJ)C (Sofls!' <S)i)aDotD. 

Chorus. 
I see and see not — though strange specters rise, 
They chase confusedly before my sight. 
Like clouds that break before th' advancing moon, 
And roll fantastically over heaven. 

Gallns. 
I have served all the gods from my youth even up 

to my present age ; 
Let all men look to me now and see how the gods 

give wage. 
I have given them threefold service — the joy of my 

youth and my health, 
The strength of my heart that was fresh, and my 

mind, and the tithe of my wealth ; 
Oblations on numberless altars — where'er men 

erected a shrine, 
To gods of all nations and seasons, with offerings 

of others, were mine ; 
My house was a temple of worship, of incense, of 

prayer, and of praise, 
To the gods whom we reverence and cherish I 

offered the hopes of my days ; 
But, oh ! they are jealous and cruel ; their service 

is bitter as death. 
As an arrow shot into the heart is, or as hemlock is 

to the breath. 
The gods they are mighty in power, they are brave 

and heroic in strife, 



3In ii)t v?oDjs' €)l)aDoiD. 73 

They quaff inconceivable depths and immeasurable 

pleasures of life ; 
But services past they forget, as an eaten fig cast 

out of date, 
The past they remember alone to sharpen the edge 

of their hate. 
Of hatred and glory, and pleasure and power, the 

gods have above. 
But they know not to pity — O pitiless gods ! and 

they know not to love. 
I would I had died ere this day. O ye gods ! that 

the white-shafted spear 
Of lightning had pierced through my heart-strings 

— the death that men reverence and fear ; 
In the regions of shadows, where shadows had 

counted me smit of their rods, 
I had known myself that the gods were pitiful, mer- 
ciful gods. 
But now to what place can I go ? or what bright- 
ness of day-spring can dawn, 
When she who made home for me heaven, and day 

a bright sunshine, is gone? 
I speak in the bitterness, yea, of my soul — in the 

blight of my heart : 
Are the gods a delusion and snare ? do they mock 

us and jeer us who smart ? 
Did they know of the dove that I fed from my 

lips and kept warm in my breast. 
That a hawk would swoop down from the bright 

sky and rifle my nest ? 
10 



74 3In rt)c <^oD;S' <g»I)ai)ob« 

And lapped in Olympian ease did they watch it 

with hands all supine 
And see the bloody beak seize on the white-winged 

treasure of mine ? 
For well the gods knew that in heart she is pure as 

the bud of a flower, 
Though the dust of a passing wind wafting may 

sprinkle it o'er in its bower, 
But the odorous blossom unfolding sifts the dust 

from the opening bud — 
O pitiless, pitiless gods, is there joy in the scenting 

of blood ? 

Priest. 

Pitiful are the gods, nor fond of blood. 
Loving, nor send Affliction's ravening beak ; 
But lingering near are Mercy's spread-wings hover- 
ing, 
Ready, like mother-birds, for swift descent. 
'T is not for us to know the gods' designs, 
But when they smite to bless them even then. 
Thee without doubt the gods forgive hard thoughts. 
Dread, rash, and unpremeditated words 
Wrung from thee by despair, and doubtless too 
Blessing shall blossom yet upon thy life, 
More sweet for present sorrow and distress. 

Gallus. 

Ah, how now can they bless me? Hear once more. 
Spring morning breaking over eastern hills 



3ln tilt <Soa^' <S)I)aiioh)» 75 

In quietness and beauty is not sweeter 

To hearts that cowered beneath the thunderous 

storm, 
When winds have writhed like wrestlers with the 

trees, 
Uptorn foundations, and drenched flooded homes, — 
The first sweet morn of peace is not more fair 
To such, I say, than was her smile to me. 
Nor the green cape of home that shines through 

mist 
And purple distance like a beckoning god 
To weary sailors buffeted by seas 
Contrary and long driven by stormy gales, 
A sight more loved and longed for than the home 
She made for me these three years past. O gods ! 
Where shall I find a being now like her ? 
Who trust, or where give love if in long years 
Grief shall grieve grief away as lawless fires. 
Flapping their wings of flame, bring fiercer heat 
And so consume themselves — to whom give love 
If e'er my heart shall grow another spring. 
Or trust what prophecy, or e'er again 
Give laud and offering to th' unaiding gods, 
When thus one worthy of all trust and love, 
One prophecy the most divinely good, 
One woman faultless in the years now fled. 
Beyond all others loved of men or gods. 
Ends in such burning — acid-like to bone 
And broken heart and ruined life of love, 



76 3ln ii)t *£^oO^' <g)^ai)oh). 

Cold hearthstone and dismembered wreck of home? 

But, friends, forgive me ! grief is garrulous; 

I will depart, and let no word of mine 

Weigh heavy on your souls. The gods are wise — 

Doubtless the gods are wise, and 'tis your wisdom 

To serve and please them — these are my last 

words. 
What else you've heard, pray pardon me — my 

grief 
Hath changed my spirit so I have forgotten 
To speak like my own self. Dear friends, farewell. 

He /eaves, proceeding down the path that 
leads to his own house. 

First Priestess. 
With an audible sound to my ear, 
As the rushing of birds of ill-omen to feast on their 
prey, 
The gods lift the curtain, and clear 

I see a perspicuous ray. 
He hath spoken — e'en now hath he gone 
To his doom. 
And the wrath of the gods that have tracked him 
e'er since he was born 
Now hurry him on to his tomb. 

Second Priestess. 
Men do an evil thing 
In the hasty, ardent spring 



3ln tf)c (60113' <S)i)aiiottJ, 77 

Of their life, and they die, 
And they leave a glorious fame 
And their wealth and their name 
To their children, and their house 

Is uplifted proud and high. 
And the laurel crowns their brows. 

And they feast and they marry, 
And they take and give spouse 

With the mighty and the great. 

And in luxury long they carry 

Their station in the state. 
'T is an honor to be born 

From the loins of their race, 

Whose descendants joy to trace 
The founder of their dawn. 
But alas, and alas ! 
For the fate that comes to pass, 
For the gods remember ever 
The hero's sins, that never 
Had a lustral sacrifice 
Offered to them for his vice, 
And in fulness of the times 

Lo ! the unforgetting gods 

Smite his house with their rods, 
And his latest generations for his crimes. 

Chorus of Priestesses. 
The house is built upon sin 
And now doth judgment begin. 



78 3(n ti)^ <Soii^' %^ano\!o. 

The gods shall requite on his head 
His own sins surely, and even the sins of the dead. 
Hence the wife of his heart 
From the gods doth depart, 
And to her whom he loved and betrayed 

A bitter revenge is given. 
And in that she lusted for vengeance 't is made 
Her punishment too by heaven. 

Near the entrance of his house Callus meets 
Vistillia, who insists upon the fulfilment of 
his promise. 

Gallus. 
Oh, say it not ! I'll hear no more of this. 
Thou wouldst wreathe myrtle on a sarcophagus. 

Vistillia. 
Thy promise — shall my love be still disdained ? 

Galhis. 
My promise — ah, Vistillia, dost thou know 
I love my wife now more than e'er before. 
Where'er I turn I see her loving eye 
Shining, and like a ghost of Pleasure dead 
Her form glides by me, passing and repassing; 
Her lustrous hair and the unnamable grace 
That sat on her white brow are e'er before me. 
If I should mate again my soul would dream 
Of her I loved more fondly, and awaking 



3ln tl)e (Sons!' <S)l)aflotD, 79 

To find another lying in her place 

My hand were apt to throttle her in sleep. 

Vistillia. 
Thy wife was recreant to the gods and thee. 

Galbis. 
If thou lovest life and length of days and limbs 
Marred not, then never let thy lips again 
Frame words nor let thy thoughts run in such 

groove 
As on thy undissembling face may show 
Casting a shadow over her white name, 
To me no recreant, and th' omnipotent gods, 
Let them urge their own cause. I do repent 
That ever I was privy to her faith, 
And so the sure means of her certain death. 
This is the worst curse that the gods pronounce. 
That death should seal the lips of injured love 
Before they have absolved the injurer. 
Hell hath no sharper polished barb of hate 
Than this. 

Vistillia. 

In me behold the human cause, 
And it became me, for she was my rival. 
But come, now play the man. The gods, not you, 
In their eternal purpose planned events, 
Making the womb of Time big with results. 
The deed predestined, who can thwart the gods ? 



8o 3In t^t (Sods' 'S)l)atioh). 

If I had cause to slay, no weak remorse 

Should haunt me like a coward, nor stay my hand. 

Gallus {in sudden frenzy). 
It shall not me, 
And let the gods stand sponsor for it, too ! 

(Stabs her.) 

(After Pause). And by the same red channel let 

me float 
Out on the sanguinary seas of Death. 

(Stabs himself.) Several of the assembly 
hasten to the scene of the tragedy. 

First Arrival. 
Is he dead ? 

Second Arrival. 

Quite dead — no echo of the heart remains. 
VistiUia, too, to that dread bourn hath gone. 

First Arrival. 
Aye, what despair is here ! Believe me, sir, 
Some sudden madness seized his brain and heart. 
Driving his hand to deeds unlike himself. 

Chief Priest. 
This is the sleep we fear, and all things fear — 
Man lordliest and the animals in all ranks. 
The kingliest lions and the shivering mouse, 
Creatures that fly through limitless wastes of air 



3In tije (g'ofljs' <S)i)aaotD, 8i 

Seeing the sun with wide unwinking e\es. 
And myriad hosts of fragile beautiful wings 
Noiseless as flakes of snow or sap in leaves, 
Monsters in the deep seas and tiny fins — 
All fear the reign of Death, and yet our friend 
Prematurely sought it — rashly brave, 
Calling for Death ere Death had called for him. 
Yet chancing that which many great men had done, 
Whether for good or ill who knows ? Perchance 
This fate of righteous men and vile alike, 
Death, of itself is neither bad nor good — 
Neutral ; but in the kingdom of the dead 
The after fate may make it bad or good. 
So shall I fondly hope when Death's cry comes 
Me-ward from out the darkness of the grave, 
That in it there shall still be the same gods. 
With the same laws of righteousness and love 
For men of clean white souls and crystal thoughts ; 
And so I trust not cowardly to die, 
But as a son in conscious rectitude. 
Ready to meet whate'er the gods decree 
Serene and without fear; but oh, the change 
From living flesh through loathsomeness to dust, 
Which though concealed by pregnant sods that 

hear 
The whispering winds of spring and feel warm rain, 
White shafts of sunhght and cool mouths of dews 
Robing in grass and leaf and fragrant flower 
The place of burial, yet I firmly know 
II 



82 3In rti^ <&oD5' 'S'Jjaliotn. 

Beneath are lips that Love, that once clung close 
Vibrating with passionate kisses and desire, 
As humming-birds bill deep in hearts of flowers — 
That Love would flee in horror and disgust 
Fair eyes and splendid hair once loved and fondled, 
More sickening now than smoothing serpent skins. 
Foulness in ears that drank Love's oaths, and arms 
And members all dismembered and decayed 
White hands and thighs and the warm musk-like 

breasts 
Whereon Love pillowed — these are spoils of Death, 
Who recks not tender babe nor reverent head. 
And I, an orphan and unknown of kin. 
For which I thank the gods, and without wife 
(Spouseless and childless I shall go to death), 
Cheating stern Death of so much dread and sorrow, 
For all these ties of love and joys of home 
Make Death a greater terror, yet myself 
Mourn this man here, whom well I knew, and 

mourn 
Choice converse and that mutual help and cheer 
Congenial souls and righteous friends impart, 
Which I from him received, and so to me 
Earth is that much less lovely. O bright sun 
And shining stars, and thou sun-gilded cloud 
Floating like happiness so fleet, so high, 
How pitiless the beauty of ye all ! 
Though men's hearts break, and tears and shudder- 
ing sobs 



3In ti)t <25oti;5' •©ftacoh). 83 

Of human sorrow bow the race to earth, 
Ye care not, but shine yet more glorious 
As if to mock the griefs of petty souls 
With your eternal ray ; and even the flowers 
And grasses wet with blood, the evening dews 
Will wash the stain away, and the glad morn 
Shine on them fresh and beautiful again, 
As if there were no sorrow in the world. 
So ere man's foot yet trod the infant globe 
It was, and so when the last man hath gone 
To the dark kingdoms of the nether world 
The sun will rise as glorious, and the moon 
As softly, and the flowery fields of earth 
Swing censers filled with incense to the gods 
Forgetful of their broken plaything — man ! 

Another Priest (sings). 
Of friends most fondly cherished 

This man in life was chief; 
Beloved thus and perished. 

What song of sad relief 
May Love sing o'er his body 

With sobbing lips of grief ! 

When Life and Love and Sorrow 

Bow o'er th' unheeding dead, 
What tributes can they borrow 

From all the past has said ? 
Vain tears and vainer memory 

Till the same path we tread. 



84 3In tl)t (SoD^' <S)I)aDotD, 

I had by birth no brother, 

Yet he was dear, God know'th, 

As though a common mother 
Had borne and suckled both. 

He was my childhood's playmate 
And love grew with our growth. 

He was my boyhood's hero, 
His thoughts were law to me, 

A man without a fear, oh, 
Grand and true and free ! 

If others found thee faultful. 
Those faults I could not see. 



Yet here he lies before you. 

Cold hand clasped o'er still breast 

That breathed this morning o'er you 
Of mortal thoughts the best, 

That men should love and worship 
And kiss the gods' behest. 



For in Life's best completeness, 
Where man earth's pathway plods. 

In charity and sweetness 

He served th' immortal gods. 

And died still clean and spotless. 
Though smitten by their rods. 



3[n ti)t ^oii;s' <&I)aiJotD, 85 

Yet setting in affliction 

And darkness, none, I wis, 
But holds the firm conviction. 

Where'er his spirit is 
Is sunshine everlasting 

And the abode of bliss. 



Yet earth to me is darkened. 

And day more drear than night ; 

Bird-songs to which he hearkened 
And flowers of his delight. 

Lush grass and glassy streamlets 
Have power to hurt and smite. 

For every thought of Nature 
He loved with heart sincere, 

Each leaf and bud and creature 
To him alike was dear. 

1 saw them with his eyesight 
And heard them with his ear. 



How can the gods requite me 
For such a loss as this ? 

What friendship can delight me 
Unshared by clasp of his ? 

And is there love and clasping 
Hands where now he is? 



86 3In t})t (©oli;s' €)!)aiiotB, 

And when I shall go to him 

Through dread, drear ways of Death, 
Will he be as I knew him 

Whom no flesh compasseth ? 
Are ties that bind men earthward 

Ensnapped as they lose breath ? 

Farewell, true-hearted lover ! 

This fate at least was thine — 
No long years shall discover 

Mortality's dread sign, 
A ruinous body living, 

A wandering mind supine. 

But if through years of duty 
The gods prolong my day, 

Immortal youth and beauty, 
Thou shalt to Memory's ray 

Recur as one untarnished 
By age or earth's decay. 

Chorus of Priestesses. 

First Priestess. 
The gods rule the earth 
Giving peace, giving strife, 
And the blast of their breath 
Is the time of man's birth ; 
And the term of his life, 
And the hour of his death, 



3In ti)t (£ioW %%anoio. 87 

And the deeds of the hand, 
And the thought of the brain, 
And the hopes of a man. 
As the gods may command 
Are achieved or are vain 
As accords with their plan ; 
For with pleasure or woe, 
Or with glory or shame. 
Or with weakness or might, 
Unto every man so 

As the gods may forename 
Shall the path of his life be in darkness or light. 

Second Priestess. 
With man is the planting of seed, 

But the gods all the harvesting send ; 
With man the intent and the deed, 

With the gods the result and the end ; 
With man is the bow and the string, 

And the arrow that darts from the bow, 
But the gods guard the power of its wing 

And give it direction to go. 
For good or for ill it may be. 

For a crown or deserving of rods, 
But the fate every mortal will see 

Is foreknown and foredoomed of the gods. 
And Pain is the shadow of Pleasure, 

And Sorrow the specter of Joy, 
And Shame but a different measure 

Of Glory the gods'would destroy. 



3In t\)t €'0116' <S)!)aaoh). 

Chorus of Priestesses. 
Till the scene-shifting curtain is drawn, 

Till the last sun sets over the stage, 
Who can tell if the man that is born 

Should exult or be sad of his age ? 
Rejoice not in greatness and glory, 

Nor in wealth nor in station depend — 
Thou knowest not Life's finished story 

Nor see'st how the morrow shall end. 
And ever to those who are highest 

The deepest reverse may o'ertake, 
As the bird that flies boldest and nighest 

The sun may be snared by the snake. 
Then grant us gods' footing and place 

In Life's intermediate state, 
Beyond the base taint of disgrace, 

Beneath the gods' envy or hate ! 




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